


Nothing Else Burns Like You

by kyischaotic



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Banter, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, M/M, Not Epilogue Compliant, Pining Draco Malfoy, Pining Harry Potter, very wholesome and cute (T’s words not mine)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-22 21:33:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21308935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyischaotic/pseuds/kyischaotic
Summary: “Harry wasn't exactly sure what to expect from a night out at a gay bar, especially with Draco Malfoy of all people. But sitting in St. Mungos' waiting room definitely wasn't on the agenda...”
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 14
Kudos: 172





	Nothing Else Burns Like You

If you had told Harry that he would run into Draco sodding Malfoy after work, he would’ve shrugged it off, seeing as it’s not an entirely uncommon occurrence. With them both working at the ministry it’s damn near impossible to not run into each other or make awkward eye contact every now and then. Especially when Harry’s brain seems set on actively seeking out those stupid pretty grey eyes and those stupid pretty platinum blond locks. (Old habits die hard, Harry guesses) 

And, after a suffocatingly awkward exchange in which Draco had approached Harry in order to thank him for speaking on his behalf then shocked everyone by genuinely apologizing to Ron and Hermione, one would almost consider them to be on friendly terms. 

Okay scratch that. Perhaps “ex-enemies who now have no idea how to interact with each other so they avoid it as much a humanly possible without seeming downright rude” would be a tad more accurate. 

If, however, you told him he would later find himself going to a gay bar with said Draco sodding Malfoy, he would’ve gawked then laughed in your face. 

And yet that’s exactly where he found himself that Friday night. 

Now, Harry wasn't exactly sure what to expect from a night out at a gay bar with Draco Malfoy of all people. But sitting in St. Mungos' waiting room definitely wasn't on the agenda he had in mind. It wasn't his fault some creep had tried to chat up Draco, and Harry, admittedly drunk off his arse and pining hard for the blond git, had hexed the guy into next Tuesday. 

Now, as he sits and reflects on the whole situation, he feels like a fucking tit for reacting so drastically. Though in Harry's defense Draco had seemed about ready to do the same, judging by his tight-lipped smile and death grip on his drink. Still, he's embarrassed enough that he thinks one look at Draco will set his face on fire, though this time not from the excessive amounts of alcohol pumping through his system or the unfortunate part of him that seems to find Draco very _very_ attractive. 

Harry can't tell if the churning in his stomach is from the guilt or if he's actually just about to hurl. Perhaps it's a mix of the two. Regardless, Harry feels like absolute shit and is about to make his way to the bathroom just in case, but it's in that moment Draco returns from talking to the Mediwizards about the situation. 

Draco takes one look at Harry and rolls his eyes so hard it looks like it hurts. "Merlin, Potter, you look like someone kicked your Crup."

"I think I'm gonna be sick," Harry says, burying his face in his hands with a groan. 

"Honestly, what _am_ I going to do with you? Can't even take you out to a bar without you causing a scene," Draco says with a 'tsk' before moving to sit next to him. Harry peeks up at him and immediately wants to smack the amused grin off his stupid, pretty, annoyingly sober face. It would be just his luck that Draco would be a heavyweight unlike himself. 

"You could kindly leave me alone to wallow in my own self pity," Harry grumbles through his hands. 

"But where's the fun in that?" Draco replies, amused smirk only growing. He seems to register the genuine guilt in the glare Harry shoots him, however, and adds "Don't worry you righteous idiot, he's not fatally wounded or anything. And I may have conveniently left out the fact that it was you that did the hexing. As far as they know, we're his best mates who saved him from a crazed wizard he rejected and hauled his sorry arse over here."

"Aww, lying for me Malfoy? How sweet," Harry says with a snort. "God, I feel like such an arse."

"I'll admit I might not have gone as far as a Body Bind Stinging Hex Whatever-The-Fuck combination, but I was fully prepared to pour my drink all over that bastard if he tried anything."

"I don't understand how you lasted that long without doing exactly that. You looked about ready to skin him alive."

"Years of practicing patience. Merlin knows I need it associating myself with you."

"Ha-bloody-ha." 

"Now come along Potter, I'm tired of you looking at me with that hangdog expression on your face," Draco says briskly as if wanting to get as far away from the subject of the creep as possible. He pushes himself out of his seat, standing up and sticking out a hand which Harry takes. He must not hide his surprise very well, as at Harry's expression he adds "The least you could do after cutting our night off much too soon is walk me home like a real gentleman.”

"A gentleman who apparently hexes creeps instead of kindly telling them to fuck off or letting you deal with them yourself," Harry says with a grunt, pulling himself up unsteadily. His stomach lurches and he nearly loses his balance, grasping onto Draco's offered hand for dear life as he rights himself. 

Draco laughs quietly and Harry ignores the way his chest flutters at the sound. "Yes, apparently so," He says with an amused smile. "Do try to refrain from vomiting on me, this coat was rather expensive and I'd prefer it not get ruined."

Another wave of nausea hits and Harry grits his teeth. "Not making any promises," He says miserably, forcing himself to let go of Draco's hand before he crushes it. 

"Perhaps I should be the one walking you home," Draco says with a good natured snort as Harry tries and fails to walk in a straight line towards to door. "Get over here you pillock," He says with a laugh, grabbing one of Harry's arms and pulling it around his own shoulders to support him. He holds that arm in place with his left and winds his right arm around Harry's waist. 

Harry desperately tries not to think about how much his body reacts to the simple gesture. 

"Is this really necessary?" Harry asks, feeling more than a little embarrassed as Draco leads them out and to the left—towards Harry's house he notices. 

"Absolutely,” Draco replies matter-of-factly. “I will not be held accountable if you manage to off yourself by falling over and breaking your neck on the pavement or splinching yourself trying to apparate home.”

Harry shakes his head and laughs then stops shaking his head because it makes him feel horrid. "Sure, alright, whatever you say Malfoy." 

"Would you rather I let you go home by yourself?" Draco asks, raising his eyebrows and pulling away slightly. 

"Gods no," Harry replies, pulling him back in and nearly tripping on a crack in the pavement he could've sworn wasn't there before. 

"Good," Draco says, squeezing the hand on his shoulder so briefly Harry isn't entirely sure if it actually happened or if he imagined it. He squeezes it back for good measure then focuses on not falling flat on his arse. Merlin knows his pride is bruised enough as it is, he doesn't need literal bruises too. 

Most of the walk is spent in comfortable silence, only broken by small conversations here and there about seemingly insignificant things. They miraculously manage to avoid any touchy subjects despite Harry's aptitude for blurting out the worst possible things at the worst possible times, especially when sloshed. They also don't bring up the guy at the bar, having come to a silent agreement that that particular part of the night is better left behind them. 

Instead, Harry asks Draco what his favorite Honeyduke's sweet is, which turns out to be Fizzing Whizzbees, and Draco, already knowing Harry's love of treacle tart, (_Honestly Potter, you needn’t look so surprised, everyone and their grandmother knows that_) asks what Harry's favorite color is, surprised to find out that it's light blue. Draco in turn says his is lavender and, after a little bit of poking and prodding, admits that it's because it reminds him of when he would tend to said flowers in the Manor's garden with his mother as a child. Draco seems to be embarrassed by this so Harry rushes to assure him that it's a completely valid reason. 

And maybe he lets it slip that he thinks it's actually really sweet. Draco shoots him a half-hearted glare before looking away muttering 'sweet' to the ground as if it's a completely foreign word that couldn't possibly apply in this case. 

Harry laughs at that, though not in a mocking way, and Draco gives him another pitiful glare that he would almost deem more of a pout. He's not sure if he imagines the blush that's now splashed across Draco's face. 

"I'm not sweet," He huffs stubbornly, causing Harry to laugh again. 

"Yet here you are, walking me home because you're worried about my well being," Harry says with a grin. 

"It was supposed to be you walking me home, wanker. And besides, that's not sweet. That's just human decency Potter. Manners? Though I don't suppose you've ever heard of those have you?"

"Yeah, yeah," Harry says, rolling his eyes. "Just admit it. Deep down, you actually have feelings and emotions and one of those happens to be 'being sweet when you want to be'."

"Impossible." Draco shakes his head, though the smile fighting its way onto his face suggests he's just saying it for the sake of the playful argument. 

"Guess I'll just have to keep telling you that you are until you get it through your thick skull then," Harry says with a shrug, fighting back a laugh as Draco let's out a resigned sigh. 

"You're a bloody handful, you know that?"

"I can't even argue with that because...well..." Harry wiggles the arm on Draco's shoulder and pats the arm around his waist as if to explain. "I'm more of an armful really," He says seriously before snorting much louder than the terrible joke deserved. A person passing by gives him a disapproving look but he pays them no mind. 

"That was absolutely horrendous," Draco says with a disbelieving laugh that makes his shoulders shake. "You're mental."

"Guess I'm lucky you like me so much then," Harry says with a cheeky smile. And this time he definitely doesn't imagine the sharp intake of breath beside him and the tightening of the hands around him.

"Yes," He says softly as if he can't believe it himself. "I dare say I do.” He fixes Harry with a hesitant smile that's so fond and open it turns Harry's heart to jelly as warmth pools pleasantly in his stomach. "I'm lucky you like me too I suppose. Or at least tolerate me."

"You forgot the really," Harry says, waggling a finger like a parent reprimanding their child.

"Pardon?"

"The really, Malfoy. You're lucky I really like you too. Because I do. Really like you that is. Like a lot. Like a lot a lot. Like more than a lot? Merlin," Harry rambles, words making less and less sense as he struggles to articulate what he wants to say. 

"Alright, alright, I'm lucky that you really like me," He says with another soft laugh to which Harry nods in approval. "Apparently."

A moment later, Harry notices Draco's hand on his waist slipping under the hem of his jumper, surprisingly warm fingers sliding against the bare skin above his hipbone. A shiver runs through Harry's body that has nothing to do with the biting cold around them, and his heart hammers against his chest. 

The next breath he lets out is surprisingly ragged as all thought leaves his head outside of the sensation of the fingers on his hip. It's such a small gesture but Harry feels like his body is on fire, warmth pooling in his stomach like he’s taken another shot of Firewhiskey. 

It takes every single ounce of Harry's dwindling willpower to not just grab Draco, shove him against the nearest solid object, and snog the living daylights out of him. 

Too worried about scaring him off though, he instead decides to test the waters a little by sliding the hand previously held on Draco's shoulder over to the nape of his neck, tangling his fingers into the short silky hair he finds there. He takes it as a good sign when Draco doesn't shove him away. In fact, the only reaction from him is the slightest tightening of his grip on Harry's hip. 

Harry glances over at him from the corner of his eye and it seems as if he's holding his breath unintentionally. He looks shocked, or like he's figuring out an extremely difficult potions recipe. Harry can practically hear the gears turning in his head. But a second later he seems to come to a conclusion, and then he's letting the breath out and ever-so-slightly leaning into Harry's touch. 

Harry has to bite down on a grin that wants to split across his face, not wanting to look like a complete loon. Of course, he ultimately fails to keep the grin off of his face, not that Draco sees it since he seems to be too busy looking forward, likely overthinking every little thing. It's a quality that Harry finds quite endearing, if a little frustrating at times. Though he can't exactly blame him for being a little over-analytical, sometimes to the point of flat out paranoia. He also can’t blame him when he himself possesses very similar traits. 

He wracks his brain for something to do to help reassure him, but right as an idea starts to formulate he ends up knocking into someone walking in the opposite direction. He stutters out an apology but the man just gives him then Draco a dirty look before spitting "Oi, watch it! Fuckin' fairies." 

At first Harry thinks they're both just going to ignore him, but then he notices Draco muttering something, and before he knows it the guy is tripping and falling into a puddle with a satisfying splash. Harry can't help the snort that escapes and he sees that Draco's mouth is twitching as he tries to contain a victorious smile. The guy stumbles up, shoots them another glare that's massively dulled by the embarrassment clear on his face, then ambles away, swearing colourfully under his breath. 

Draco and Harry continue walking, but once they turn a corner Harry can't contain it anymore and bursts out laughing, hard enough that he has to brace himself on the nearest wall. Due to his arm around Draco, he ends up dragging him right along with him so that they're both now laughing together whilst leaned against the building side-by-side. 

It's then that Harry realizes he doesn't think he's ever seen or heard Draco laugh this loudly and freely. On the rare occasions he does, they're always light breathy laughs or mocking snorts, but never this. Full-bellied with tears pricking at his eyes as he covers his mouth with an aristocratic hand and clutches his stomach with the other. 

It's a breathtakingly beautiful sight and Harry hopes he never forgets this moment. Just the two of them, drunk and laughing their arses off at the ridiculousness of their night as they walk home together.

"Oh my god the look on his face was priceless," Harry chokes out between laughs. 

"There, now we're even you wanker," Draco says, nudging him with his elbow and trying to calm down his laughter. 

"See, you are sweet when you want to be!" Harry says, poking his shoulder. "You just used wandless magic to trip a guy because he ran into me and called us fairies!"

"I think you need to re-evaluate your definition of sweet, Potter," Draco says, leaning his head back on the wall then turning it towards Harry with a soft smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes. 

"Oh, here, let me just pull out the dictionary I carry around with me and put a picture of you under sweet instead," Harry says, pretending to pull a book out of his pocket then flipping through it. "Or maybe I'll just write Draco Malfoy for the definition?" He adds, pretending to write in the imaginary dictionary. 

"Oh shove off," Draco says, jokingly pushing him to the side.

Harry, in turn, leans further onto Draco, resting his head on his shoulder and wrapping his arms around his waist. "No. Fuck you. You're warm and stable and I'd probably fall over and die somehow. And that would kind of defeat the purpose of you walking me home, right?"

"Right," Draco says faintly. He hesitates for a moment then tentatively wraps his right arm around Harry's shoulders, ever-so-slightly pulling him closer. Harry nestles his nose into the scarf wrapped delicately around Draco’s neck. The smell that floods his senses is intoxicating, wrapping him up in a blanket of citrus and warmth.

They stand like that for a moment, neither wanting to move away lest they risk breaking the bubble of comfortable silence that has settled around them. Harry takes a moment to simply soak in Draco's presence beside him, finding a strange comfort in the sound of his breathing; a security in the weight of his arm around him. He finds himself growing drowsy, however, as his relaxation gives way to exhaustion. 

Eventually, Harry let's out a sigh and quietly says "Although, standing here all night sort of defeats the purpose too if we never actually make it there." 

Draco makes a sound of affirmation but says nothing. A gust of wind blows past them, still managing to make Harry shiver despite the extra warmth radiating from Draco’s body. 

“Come on then, can’t have you catching a cold on me. Granger would have my head.” Draco loops an arm around one of Harry’s and tugs him away from the wall. “And then all of that work to convince her I’m not still a...” Draco pauses to recall. “What was it she called me?”

“A foul loathsome evil little cockroach,” Harry says, laughing at the memory. 

“Yes, yes. Regardless, all of that work would have been for naught!” 

“I’m just going to pretend you’re also worried about my well being, not only whether you’ll live through getting back on Hermione’s bad side,” Harry says with a tired laugh. 

“I’m a Slytherin, Potter, self-preservation is our specialty, it’s in our blood. It’s not like anyone else will look out for us,” Draco says, though something in his tone pulls at Harry’s heart. He doesn’t realize he’s stopped walking until he feels a tug as Draco’s arm slips out from around of his. Draco turns around with an exasperated look on his face. “What is it now?”

“I’ve never thought about it that way is all,” Harry says, shrugging. “It’s fucked up really, something as simple as your house isolating you like that. Makes me realize just how much the other houses take for granted.”

“Yeah, no shit Scarhead,” Draco says, though with a good-natured snort. “Now come on, or I’ll be forced to side-along apparate you to your house and more-than-likely splinch us both.”

“Yeah, no splinching please.” Harry shudders for effect as he starts to walk once more. “Merlin, just thinking about apparating makes me feel like vomiting.”

“So let’s do us both a favor then, shall we?” Draco says, gesturing in the direction they’re walking. 

“Alright, alright, I’m walking.” Harry catches up to Draco and they resume their walk. However, with the absence of Draco’s body heat against him, he becomes startlingly aware of how cold the night has grown. He shoves his hands into his front trouser pockets in a futile attempt to find warmth, regretting not wearing a coat as he enviously eyes Draco in his. 

Draco glances at Harry and, upon seeing him shiver again, frowns. With a ‘tsk’ he unwraps the scarf around his neck and winds it around Harry’s before his sense has time to stop him. 

Harry is startled, to say the least, and finds himself staring owlishly at him. He knows for a fact this scarf means an awful lot to Draco, if his nearly hexing Harry after he nearly spilled a drink on it a couple hours ago is any indication. 

“Your nose was turning pink,” Draco blurts out as doubt seems to creep into his head. 

This only ends up making Harry’s face even pinker. He wants to laugh as he realizes Draco didn’t even need to give him the scarf to warm up his face. 

“Thanks,” Harry says quietly with a smile, burying his nose into the mercifully warm scarf. It’s dizzying, breathing in the citrusy aroma, though he now notices an underlying smell he assumes is an expensive cologne of some kind. He wonders if it’s something he wears everyday or just on special occa—

Harry stops dead in his tracks (to Draco’s great dismay). “Fuck. I just realized.”

“What, that we won’t make it to your house if we keep stopping every two seconds?”

“Shut up you git, no! it’s your bloody birthday today isn’t it!” Harry says accusingly. 

There’s a moment of silence as Draco’s eyebrows shoot up, his expression that of a deer-in-headlights. “Well, yes, it would seem that way.”

“You didn’t tell me you arse!” Harry says, punctuating each word with a punch to his arm. 

“I don’t really celebrate it, it’s not a big deal,” Draco says, batting away the assault. “I’m surprised you remembered. Or even knew when it was for that matter.”

“How could I not? You guys always made a huge spectacle of celebrating them at breakfast, or at least when we were younger.” Harry pauses. “I’m surprised Pansy didn’t manage to drag you out somewhere tonight.”

“Oh believe me, she tries every year,” Draco says. “I’m just more stubborn than her on this. Though I’m sure she’ll manage to trick me into doing something soon to make up for it as usual.”

“The Weasleys would never let me go a year without celebrating my birthday. And with Hermione on their side I wouldn’t stand a chance,” Harry says thoughtfully. “I don’t think I give Slytherin friendships enough credit. I used to think they were nothing but your cronies if I’m honest. But the way you talk about them...I don’t know...I can tell how much you genuinely care for them.”

“Don’t let those cows hear you say that, I’d never hear the end of it,” Draco says, exasperated. 

“Of course, my lips are sealed.” Harry mimes zipping his lips then gives him a thumbs up. Draco laughs again. 

They lapse back into silence as they continue walking. The next corner they round brings them right in front of the staircase to number twelve, Grimmauld Place. 

Harry takes one step up but can’t bring himself to go any further. “Well, this is me,” He says, turning to face Draco. 

Draco rakes a hand through his hair and Harry would almost say he looks nervous. Which is a sight he hasn’t seen in years; not since he came and apologized then thanked him. The difference being that this time he isn’t trying to cover up his unease with a false air of confidence and superiority. Now he simply looks awkward, like he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself. 

It’s a nice change, Harry thinks, not being the only one unsure of things and all. Seeing Draco like this, strange as it sounds, reminds him of how human he actually is.

Even after all of these years, it’s hard to not see him as the emotionally detached, lifeless boy he once knew. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget how small he looked sitting silently before the Wizengamot. 

But tonight, with each joke, each hesitant smile, and each little endearing tick, Harry’s head is slowly building a picture of this Draco. A Draco who is witty, and snarky, and petty, and a perfectionist, and laughs, and looks happy and alive. 

A Draco who was impulsive enough to ask Harry out for drinks, not knowing whether he’d agree or laugh in his face. 

A Draco who chose to spend his birthday with his ex arch-rival, which continues to baffle Harry as he stands there not knowing what to do either. 

The air feels thick with tension, though not one that’s entirely unpleasant. Like that split second at the top of a rollercoaster, or right before you pull a dangerous stunt on a broom. It’s exhilarating and terrifying all at once. 

And when Harry meets Draco’s gaze his first thought is...

Oh.

Because there’s anxiety, and nerves reflected in his gaze. But behind all that is pure want. And Harry begins to wonder just how little resistance he would’ve been met with had he snogged the bugger a half hour ago. 

And Merlin does he want to. He’s half a second from pulling Draco into his apartment right along with him. But another part of him desperately doesn’t want this to seem like a one-off thing that they go the rest of their lives pretending never happened. 

Draco is the first to break the eye contact with a cough. “Right, I should probably...” He trails off, hands waving aimlessly before promptly being shoved into his coat pockets. 

“Yeah, right, of course...“ Harry stutters, inhaling sharply. Draco takes a step back and Harry starts to panic, his head yelling that He’s getting away you numpty! 

“Actually wait I-“ Harry starts and Draco’s eyes snap back to his. He fumbles over what to say, cursing himself for acting like a schoolgirl with a crush. 

“Yes?” Comes Draco’s response, guarded but cautiously hopeful. 

“I’m glad you decided to not-celebrate your birthday with me...I...had a lot of fun if I’m being honest.” Harry laughs self-consciously, feeling his face heating once again. 

“As am I,” Draco says, expression softening. “You’re, dare I say, not too terrible of company after all.”

The words tumble out before Harry can fully process them. “And while I’d like to invite you to not-celebrate my birthday with me next month, I’m afraid I’m a tad impatient and don’t want to wait that long.”

Harry wants to slap himself. 

“Are you now?” Draco says after the words seem to sink in, eyebrows raised. “Well, I mustn’t keep our Glorious Savior waiting then. What is it you propose we do to solve this...predicament?”

“Drinks next Friday? Say...eight? Muggle place of my choosing?” Harry’s stomach does about thirty somersaults over the course of the next second as Draco pretends to ponder his proposal. 

He sighs. “I supposed I could make room for it in my very busy schedule.” He tries his best to keep a straight face, but a smile starts to twitch at the corners of his mouth. “Only if you’re paying that is.”

“Oi I offered tonight! You just wouldn’t let me–“

“Or perhaps I’ll phone Pansy, see what she’s up to–“

“Alright, ALRIGHT! I offered, I’m paying,” Harry says, a smile of his own breaking through. “Drinks? Again? Next Friday?” He asks again, about ready to add Please? to the mix. “No creeps, or trips to St. Mungo’s, or fear of Wizard press. Just...us.” Harry finishes, extending a hand to seal the deal. 

Draco looks surprised by the gesture but eventually extends his own hand to grasp Harry’s. “Very well, you drive a hard bargain Mr. Potter,” He says with a nod, though a smile soon breaks through the mock-seriousness. He laughs as if in disbelief, amusement and budding joy crinkling his eyes. 

“I think I can make it worth your while,” Harry says softly before mustering up every ounce of Gryffindor courage he has and using their joined hands to pull Draco closer. A childish part of him gives a triumphant cheer as his one stair advantage makes him slightly taller than Draco (Who consequentially must now look up at Harry as opposed to the other way around). 

Their eyes never leave each other as they move almost as one to close the distance between their bodies. Harry drops Draco’s hand in lieu of gently wrapping it around the back of his neck. Then, seeking more contact, his other hand soon finds its way to Draco’s cheek, brushing along a high cheekbone then carefully replacing a loose strand of silky hair behind his ear. 

A small shiver runs through Draco’s body and Harry doesn’t even try to attribute it to the cold. As if seeking out an anchor to keep himself grounded, Draco’s hands shoot forward and grip Harry’s waist hard enough to bruise. 

Harry softly traces Draco’s cheek bone as pale hands mindlessly twist and bunch up the sides of his jumper. They hardly dare to breathe, each of them equally terrified of breaking the fragile yet electrifying atmosphere.

Harry dips his head forward, closer, closer, closer, until their foreheads meet. Each hot, shallow breath from Draco’s parted lips ghosts tantalizingly across Harry’s. He can taste the liquor on his breath and is surprised to find it less than repulsive. Instead it serves to makes him want to taste it on his lips. His mouth. His tongue. 

Harry swallows, tongue darting out to, futile as the action may be, wet his dry lips. 

Draco’s piercing gaze follows every movement before snapping back up.

“Can I...?” Harry feels himself ask hoarsely, one hand absently dropping to Draco’s chest. 

“Yes,” Draco replies breathily, not even letting him finish the question. His heart pounds erratically against Harry’s palm as he slips it under his coat. 

And without any further reason to doubt or hesitate, Harry tilts his head and dips down that final distance. 

And finally. _Finally._ Captures Draco’s lips in a kiss. 

The first kiss is like dipping only your toes into a pool, merely testing the waters. His disbelieve that this is really happening has Harry soon pulling away to check Draco’s reaction. He looks dazed as he seems to register what’s just happened. But his gaze quickly turns molten as he determinedly steps forward and reclaims Harry’s lips in a searing kiss. 

The second kiss is like walking across hot coals. Burning, dangerous, exciting. 

Draco easily uses his grip on Harry’s waist to his advantage, gently pushing him back as he joins him on the steps. Harry gasps as the ice cold metal of the railing digs itself into his back, chilling him through his jumper. But he barely spares the discomfort a second thought as he finds Draco’s mercifully warm body being pressed against his front. 

Desire and warmth coil in Harry’s stomach as Draco’s tongue runs along his bottom lip. Harry is quick to part his lips, answering the unspoken question with a sigh. Draco’s tongue obligingly slips between his lips, tentatively exploring his mouth as one of his hands tangles itself in his unruly hair. Harry barely withholds a groan as he ever-so-gently tugs at the captured locks. He can feel the smallest of smirks pull at Draco’s lips as they continue to move against his. 

Smug bastard. Harry thinks with an internal laugh. 

Harry returns the kiss with what he hopes is just as much enthusiasm, his hand desperately gripping Draco’s shirt from where it’s been trapped between their heaving chests. The proximity is dizzying, each swipe of his tongue is intoxicating, and every spot Draco touches crackles like electricity. It’s all at once too much, and not enough, and Harry just lets himself drown in the sensations.

When they eventually draw apart, after what feels like hours but could’ve been mere minutes, they both stay in place. Draco rests their foreheads together as they both attempt to even out their breathing. His thumbs gently trace along Harry’s jaw and cheeks and eventually drag at his lower lip. 

Draco takes a fortifying breath before pulling away ever so slightly. “Whilst I would love to continue this...elsewhere...” He begins but trails off, face flushing. 

“It wouldn’t make you much of a gentleman to shag me on the first date?” Harry finishes for him with a crooked grin. 

“If you wish to word it that way...yes,” Draco says with a long-suffering sigh before offering a small smile of his own. 

“I’m sure I’ll manage with just a goodnight kiss this time,” Harry says with a laugh. The look he receives is one part exasperated and one part endeared. 

“In that case, I believe it’s about time I bid you goodnight.” Draco pulls him in for a final kiss that leaves Harry aching for next Friday, before turning and Disapparating on the spot. Harry manages to catch the self-satisfied smirk regardless. 

It’s not until Harry is stumbling up to his blissfully warm bed and has begun undressing that he realizes he’s still wearing Draco’s scarf. 

And maybe he keeps it on that night, and the night after, and the night after, indescribably comforted by the familiar aroma of citrus, cologne, and expensive fabric . He considers returning it sooner but finds himself giving the excuse all week that _he’ll see him this weekend anyway so just wait until then._

And maybe he forgets to grab it Friday night like an utter tit. 

And maybe he uses it as an excuse to invite Draco inside after he once again walks him home. 

And maybe that night he doesn’t need it anyway, because who needs the scarf when you can curl up with the real thing?

**Author's Note:**

> Big uwus to my mans T for reading over this and helping me not make a TOTAL grammatical fool of myself <333 I don’t know what came over me but I actually wrote Drarry without any mega angst or anything! So I hope you enjoyed it while it lasts haha *nervously sweats as I look at the, dun dun DUUUNNN, chaptered fic I’ve been working on that will hopefully someday see the light of day*


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